INHUMANITY OF ANGLING. 201 



with a look of dull intenseness, and holding a long reed 

 which it helplessly waved backward and forward, like one 

 of the willows under the breeze. My first sensation was 

 alarm, but I saw that the monster dreaded the water, and 

 I despised him for his impotence. My next was disgust 

 at his deformity. I gave a final glance, dashed the waters 

 with my tail in scorn, and darted away. But let my 

 folly be all told. That glance was fatal. I saw at the 

 same moment, just touching the waters, one of the most 

 delightful flies that imagination had ever shaped, for the 

 banquet of an epicure. I was an epicure. And his blue 

 wing, purple body, and golden crest would have fascinated 

 the most self-denying eye. I was young, rash, ardent, 

 and hungry. I made but one spring at the temptation, and 

 seized it at the moment. But to my inexpressible surprise 

 J felt a singularly sharp pang in the very act of seizure. 

 I plunged into the depths of the river. But the pang was 

 there and everywhere. Still I plunged on. But I sud- 

 denly found a strange check. At once furious and 

 frightened, I plunged on. But the check grew more 

 powerful as I grew exhausted. And at last, yielding to 

 fate, I found myself rapidly drawn back through the 

 channel which I had traversed which such speed. The 

 sensation in my throat now grew more torturing than ever. 

 At last, judge of my horror when I saw the monster 

 standing on the bank above me. His miry covering 

 seemed more miry than ever, the props on which he 

 tottered more tottering, but his countenance was distended 



